


of white horses and women

by geralehane



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Pretty Woman AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralehane/pseuds/geralehane
Summary: "Clarke really fucking knows what she's doing. Lexa makes that conclusion right away. Hard not to conclude that when the blonde's hands set her body on fire.She's got a set of rules that they go over quickly. No kissing on the mouth makes Lexa quirk an amused eyebrow, but she agrees with a small shrug. She doesn't really care. If the blonde is a hopeless romantic at heart, it's none of her business.That's all it is, anyway. Business. And Clarke is more than a perfect partner. Lexa makes a mental note to send Anya a fruit basket. Fuck it, a fruit garden. She was spot on about this. It's been a mere hour, and Lexa already feels like she can take on the whole world. Yes, sex with Clarke is that good."or, the pretty woman au





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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> enjoy your read!

“You need to fuck someone.” That's so Anya of, well, Anya, that Lexa has to snort in her drink. No sugar-coating, no easing into it. Her business partner slash best friend is notorious for always cutting straight to the chase. Lexa has a reputation of being rather ruthless in their corporate world, but she's considered mellow compared to Anya. Everyone prefers to deal with her. 

 

Fools. 

 

“I need  _ Azgeda _ out of business,” she replies, sipping at her scotch. 

 

Anya shakes her head. One unruly blonde lock falls down her face, and she brushes it away, impatient. “No, Lexa,” she presses. “What you  _ need _ is to find a girl and fuck her senseless and  _ maybe _ that will remove that stick from your ass. I'm saying  _ maybe _ because with you, even this fool-proof method might not work because dear fucking God you're wound tight lately.” 

 

As if she doesn't know that without Anya meddling in her life. But this suggestion is simply absurd. Sex isn't going to solve her problems. It isn't going to help her tear  _ Azgeda Inc _ down. And that is what she actually needs.  _ Azgeda _ has been on the market for fifteen years, and it hasn't been doing well for a good portion of that time. Which means undervalued assets just waiting for them to claim them and sell them off. Which means generous profit. 

  
  


She’s a corporate raider. Perhaps, it isn’t the most honorable profession out there, but it brings in money. Good money. After foster care, Lexa’s damn sure both she and Anya deserve that. All corporations are evil anyway. They are simply helping the world get rid of the weaker ones. At least, that's what her lawyer, Quint, is going with. She doesn't particularly like Quint, but lately he's become invaluable. She's not sure she's okay with that.

 

But, at least, with  _ Azgeda Inc _ , she'll also get to figuratively spit Nia Azgeda, the owner of the company, right in her smug face. 

 

Fucking Nia.

 

Anya is still staring at her, expecting a reply, and Lexa sighs. She looks around the hotel bar before facing her friend again – the bar is mostly empty, save for staff and a couple of businessmen in the far corner. So she doesn't bother to lower her voice when she answers. 

 

“First, your idea is absurd. Second,” she puts her hand up before Anya has a chance to defend her point, “I'm a public figure. A highly hated public figure. I can't exactly go around hooking up with random women. Chances are they aren't random at all." It's a common thing, really. Competition hiring people to hook up with their enemies and air their dirty laundry after. 

 

"You're paranoid," Anya tells her flatly. "And I'm not saying pick someone random. In fact, I have someone very specific in mind." When Lexa only stares at her in confusion, she rolls her eyes. "I hired a hooker. Already paid for and everything. High class escort. Glowing reviews." 

 

Lexa feels color drain from her face, and she sits there for several seconds simply trying to gather her thoughts. It's not often that she is rendered speechless, but Anya always knows ways to make her so. "...You," she finally managed to stutter. "You hired a  _ hooker _ ?!" The last word is hissed, low and astonished. 

 

"Don't call her that in person. I've been told she prefers the term  _ escort _ ." 

 

"You've been told - Anya, are you out of your mind?" The room is spinning and warm, and her face is burning hot. "I don't... I don't even know what to say. I don't have words. Literally zero words." 

 

"Those were words," Anya points out helpfully before standing up and reaching inside her jacket pocket for a wallet. Lexa watches her fish out several bills and toss them on the bar. The gesture makes her a little sick. "And you don't have to say anything. She's coming over  tomorrow . Let her in and get it out of your system. I'm serious, Lexa," she leans in so close Lexa can smell scotch on her breath. "You've been a giant pain in the ass, and it's  _ crucial _ for our business that you fucking relax, or you'll blow it. So let  _ her _ blow it." With that, Anya stands up and walks away, leaving Lexa to stare at her retreating back. 

 

Lexa blinks at the bills in front of her before snatching them up and taking her credit card out. 

 

// 

 

She contemplates not opening the door when the  _ escort _ shows up, but she's also been contemplating Anya's words from earlier. And Anya is right. She's right about a lot of things, and she's right about this one, too - no matter how much Lexa wants to clock her in the face at first. She does need to unwind and let off some steam. 

 

Anya sent her the information about the  _ company  _ that the  _ escort _ is working for - it's an actual company, too. One that values secrecy of their clients above all. Both clients and escorts sign a contract - Anya signed hers. It all looks serious and legitimate and not at all like what she saw in the movies. 

 

There is no information about the escort herself.

 

A goddamn contract. On the other hand, for a price like that... 

 

So, yes. When the dreaded knock on her door comes, she hesitates only a second. Then, she sighs, loosens her tie and throws the door open. 

 

She doesn't know what she expected. She didn't really have any expectations. Prejudices, maybe, that were diminished significantly after she looked through the info. For some reason, she had a fleeting thought about pearls and a Gucci dress and furs. Someone classy and expensive almost to the point of vulgarity, but not quite. 

 

Instead, there is a young woman dressed in jeans and a white blazer, looking at her with friendly curiosity.

 

"Hey," she says. Her voice is pleasantly husky - the type of voice that stays with you long after you hear it. Lexa blinks at her weird thoughts. "I was told you're expecting me?" 

 

Lexa blinks again. The woman tucks her blonde hair behind her ear as she continues to study her with interest. Her blue eyes are twinkling with something akin to amusement, and Lexa's flush deepens, because - does she find her funny? 

 

Is she - is she  _ laughing _ at her? 

 

Lexa takes control on instinct. Her pride is her enemy and her ally, as always. "Yes," she says curtly. The blonde's little smile grows. "Please, come in." 

 

“I'm Clarke.” 

 

//

 

Clarke really fucking knows what she's doing. Lexa makes that conclusion right away. Hard not to conclude that when the blonde's hands set her body on fire. 

 

She's got a set of rules that they go over quickly.  _ No kissing on the mouth  _ makes Lexa quirk an amused eyebrow, but she agrees with a small shrug. She doesn't really care. If the blonde is a hopeless romantic at heart, it's none of her business. 

 

That's all it is, anyway. Business. And Clarke is more than a perfect partner. Lexa makes a mental note to send Anya a fruit basket. Fuck it, a fruit garden. She was spot on about this. It's been a mere hour, and Lexa already feels like she can take on the whole world. Yes, sex with Clarke is  _ that _ good. 

 

She really fucking knows what she's doing. 

 

She's still trying to catch her breath when the blonde next to her chuckles. “So,” she says casually, turning on her side and propping her head up with her hand. “A top, huh.” 

 

Lexa blows out a shaky sigh. “I didn't realize pillowtalk was part of the package,” she states. Immediately regretting her words, she looks up at Clarke, but the blonde only gives another chuckle. She must be used to remarks like this. 

 

Something tightens in her stomach, cold and unpleasant. The anger burns through her chest, and it takes her a second to realize she's angry with  _ herself. _

 

Clarke is studying her again, her eyes blue and dark, and Lexa mentally thanks Anya for thinking ahead and setting it up for the whole night. This woman is something else. She doesn't know if it's her long self-inflicted abstinence or Clarke herself, but she's not sure she's ready to let her go just yet. 

 

Lexa completely understands Clarke's choice in profession now. Her energy is inherently sexual, and sizzles and coils around her, drawing Lexa in like a magnet. She wonders how many people have fallen victim to this. To her. 

 

Wonders if it matters.

 

“It's not, usually,” Clarke replies to her insensitive jab. Then, as if reading Lexa's thoughts, “Consider yourself special.” 

 

“What's so special about me?” Lexa turns on her side, too. Blonde locks are lovely curling around her finger. 

 

Clarke trails her gaze to Lexa's fingers tangled in her hair and then back to Lexa herself.  Her eyes are twinkling again, and Lexa thinks there is something on the tip of her tongue that she doesn't want to share. She's right. “I doubt you want to know. At least,” she chuckles again. Deep, rich sound. “Not yet.”  

 

Lexa's too distracted by Clarke's smooth skin to argue. 

 

// 

 

They stay up all night. Somewhere around three in the morning, Lexa pants a quick “strap ons?” and Clarke's eyes light up brighter than the moonlight streaming in through the window. 

 

And either Clarke – if that's even her real name – is the queen of faked orgasms, or Lexa really knows what she's doing, too. For the sake of her pride, Lexa prefers to think it's the latter. 

 

Clarke's moans and nails down Lexa's back support that, as well. She's writhing under Lexa, and it's... tantalizing. Beads of sweat sliding down her taut neck. Wet hair sticking to her forehead. Arching her back every time Lexa thrusts inside her. Slick skin on skin. It's been a while – a long while – since she had a woman this way. 

 

And what a woman she has now. 

 

“Lexa,” Clarke cries out when Lexa's thrusts grow sharper. “Fuck!” She's wordlessly begging for more, rolling her hips back into Lexa's, and she finds she can't deny her this. She wants her to fall apart. Wants to be the cause of her blinding pleasure. So she picks up the pace, groaning when the toy rubs just where she needs it to. 

 

Clarke's wide eyes are wild and blue, and Lexa almost loses it right then and there. She wants to last longer, so she buries her face in Clarke's neck instead, nibbling and kissing hungrily at her damp skin. She smirks at the girl's sharp gasp. Moans under her breath when nails dig in deeper, and answers with rough thrusts and impatient hands pawing at flesh.

 

That, coupled with Lexa biting into her neck, becomes Clarke's undoing. 

 

“Fuck, Lexa, gonna come, I'm gonna-” she babbles, and then she snaps. Lexa watches, breathless, as Clarke arches up from the bed, mouth open in a silent scream. She sits back on her heels and glides her hands up to the blonde's chest, cupping her full breasts and squeezing as Clarke's orgasm rips through her. 

 

Clarke's moans when she comes are the most erotic, heavenly sounds she's ever heard. The sight before her is divine. Clarke, sprawled out, with her legs spread and trembling, biting into her lower lip – Lexa has to steel herself so she doesn't come on the spot. That would be beyond embarrassing. 

 

Clarke doesn't have such inhibitions. She happily lets Lexa know just how good she made her feel, and it's absolutely liberating. 

 

“Fuck,” the blonde moans again, her body shuddering under Lexa's skilled hands. She pushes her fingers away from her clit, stopping Lexa from trying to prolong her orgasm. “No more, shit,” she pants. “Too good,” she smirks blissfully at Lexa, her eyes hooded and heavy with satisfaction. 

 

Lexa suddenly catches herself thinking that it all feels like a simple hook-up. A friendly hook-up. Clarke makes it seem like they are just having fun, without any contracts and money transfers and strict rules. 

 

Clarke really, really fucking knows what she's doing. 

 

Lexa can't help but surrender to that. “Too good, huh?” she rasps teasingly, lowering her body so that she's sliding against Clarke's in all the right places. It's an electric jolt through her system when their nipples brush together, and she only now realizes she actually hasn't come yet. Well. This particular round. Clarke took care of all the previous ones. She's lost count how many it has been by now. 

 

“Uh huh,” Clarke replies flippantly. Her fingers slide up Lexa's arms and tangle in her hair, tugging and teasing. That's usually where girls lean up and capture her lips with their own, but tonight, there is a rule. 

 

_ No kissing on the mouth. _

 

But Clarke's gaze is dark and heavy and fixed on her mouth, and she thinks that maybe, if she leans down just slightly - 

 

Clarke tugs her down, and something like a warning flashes through her eyes when Lexa rests her forehead on hers.  _ Rule number one, _ her gaze says. Their lips are so, so close – if Lexa bends her head just a touch more, they'll be brushing. But she doesn't. If Clarke doesn't want her to, she will not do it. 

 

She starts to thrust instead, and Clarke gasps, hitting Lexa's lips with a warm puff of air. It's a sweet kind of torture that Lexa's not quite accustomed to – not being able to kiss someone she's fucking. She thought it would be easy. But right now, with Clarke underneath her, watching her every move with careful eyes – it just might be the most difficult thing she's ever experienced. It also makes everything sharper. More vivid. Bright. The pleasure is bordering on painful, mixing with confusing longing, and it's new and exciting and well worth the price tag. 

 

She really needs to stop thinking about the price tag.

 

“Can you come like this?” Clarke asks, low and careful. Lexa doesn't trust herself with her voice, so she simply nods. Their lips almost touch, but Clarke turns her head, just slightly, and she grazes her cheek instead. “Good. Then do.” Clarke's voice grows raspy. “Fuck me till you come, and then I'll clean you up.” 

 

This time, Lexa doesn't even have it in her to feel embarrassed when she tumbles over the edge after a couple of quick thrusts. 

 

“Clarke,” she gasps, jerking inside her with thrusts that become erratic. “I'm coming-” 

 

“That's it. Come for me,” Clarke coos, and Lexa shudders when she feels herself pulse and throb. She wishes Clarke could feel it too, and then remembers she did, all the previous times. 

 

She moans, still thrusting, and that's when Clarke clenches around her, fast and rhythmic. Her blunt nails scratch down her back once again, reclaiming fresh scars she's left there before. 

 

She hates that she wishes she could swallow Clarke's scream. 

 

//

 

Out of all ridiculous ideas she's ever come up with, this just might take the cake. But Lexa never really comes up with anything ridiculous, and this one is actually kind of genius. She needs a professional approach, and Clarke is a professional. 

 

“You're kidding,” Clarke laughs when Lexa tells her about her plan. “This is some cheesy romcom material. You can't be serious.” Blue eyes flash with muted amusement. Lexa no longer finds it condescending. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she's naked and more relaxed than she's been in years. Maybe. 

 

“I don't kid.” 

 

“Okay, Spock,” Clarke says. “So let me get this straight, pardon my awful pun. You're here for a week on a business trip, and you want to hire me as your fake girlfriend for the rest of it, because you will be going to work functions that demand having a date, and since you don't want to bring someone random and generally don't do the whole 'emotions' thing, you'd rather pay me to do this?” 

 

Lexa actually used a lot more words and business terms, but Clarke's summary is rather precise. She has a feeling Anya and her will get along just fine. Right after Anya's done screaming her ear off. “Yes. That is surprisingly accurate.” 

 

Clarke laughs again. “You don't really pay attention to things you say, do you?” she says, not unkindly. “You keep lowkey insulting me and I doubt you even realize that.” 

 

“Oh,” Lexa flushes. “I don't... I didn't mean to imply your intelligence is surprising.” 

 

“Yet that's exactly what you've just said.” Blue eyes are sparkling and smiling. 

 

Lexa's shocked at what comes out of her mouth next. “I'm – I'm sorry.” 

 

“Eh,” one naked shoulder shrugs, and Lexa trails her gaze over it. “I've heard far worse. You're okay. In fact, it's kind of adorable.” 

 

“I am not adorable.” 

 

“Sure,” Clarke agrees, and they both know it's just to placate her. 

 

Lexa sighs. “So, are you in?” 

 

“What if I'm booked this week?” 

 

“Are you?” 

 

Clarke's stare is unreadable at first. Lexa's not used to this – having to guess what's going through people's heads. Usually, she knows it before they speak their thoughts. But that's not the case with Clarke. She's something new and exciting, and Lexa's not a big fan of lying to herself. She knows perfectly well that it's part of the reason she made this seemingly absurd offer. A small part of her wants to figure Clarke out before she lets her go and never sees her again. 

 

Then, she watched a slow smile form on the blonde's lips. “How much did you offer me, again?” 

 

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Six thousand,” she repeats flatly. Clarke's smirk grows. 

 

“Well, how can a girl say no to a sweet voice like that.” 

 

“Is that a yes?” 

 

Clarke trails her fingers up and down her bicep before replying. “We can still fuck, right?” She grins. “I  mean. You're crazy good with your hands.” 

 

“Do you tell that to every girl you meet?” 

 

Blue eyes widen in faux surprise. “Oh, I see we're learning to be more delicate. No, Lexa,” she chuckles. “I don't tell that to every  _ client _ I fuck. I only lie when I'm prompted to. Part of the job.” 

 

“You mean...” 

 

“ _ Yeah, baby, tell me how much you like my big dick, _ ” Clarke imitates a male voice, before switching to an annoyingly high pitched version of herself, “ _ I love it, baby! It's not at all tiny, three inches is humongous! _ ” 

 

Lexa really shouldn't laugh. But she does. “My fingers are shorter than that, though,” she points out through chuckles. 

 

Clarke eyes her hands. “I beg to differ,” she says, clenching her thighs. Just like that, Lexa wants her again. But she wants to settle this before they continue. 

 

“So was that a yes?” 

 

“So can we still fuck?” 

 

“I assumed it would be included, yes.” Lexa licks her lips, thinking. “However, I won't be always available. In fact, I most certainly won't be, most nights.” At Clarke's raised eyebrows, she rushes to explain. “Work.” 

 

“Who's the escort here, again?” 

 

Lexa shakes her head, struggling not to laugh. “Clarke,” she attempts. “I'm forewarning you. This won't be a vacation. I will need you to always be available, and I myself won't be.” 

 

“My mother warned me about toxic relationships,” Clarke sighs dramatically. She chuckles and grabs Lexa's arm when she scoffs and tries to leave the bed. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll stop. This is a business transaction, and I get it, okay? I'm in. I'll be a perfect doll at your beck and call, making you seem like a respectable human being while you plan your hostile company takeovers. Good thing I'm not religious – sounds like I'm making a deal with the devil.” 

 

Lexa tries to smirk as menacingly as possible, if only for the sake of keeping the joke going. “You are.” 

 

The woman next to her laughs. “Right. Oh! Would it be too cheesy if I solemnly told you not to fall in love with me?” Lexa can tell she's mocking her, just a little bit, but Clarke looks so good doing it she isn't even mad.

 

“Don't worry,” she says. “I won't.” 

 

Blue eyes roll. “Yup. Cheesy as fuck.” 

 

Lexa laughs in spite of herself. “Shut up.” 

 

//

 

“You're an idiot,” Anya tells her flatly when she stops by Lexa's room and sees Clarke in her blue button up, making coffee. “This is stupid.” 

 

“It's genius. She's smart and there's no emotional attachment. She'll play her part perfectly.” 

 

“I will,” Clarke confirms, hopping up on the counter and sipping at her coffee. Anya scowls at her laughing gaze before facing Lexa again. 

 

“You're an idiot,” she says again, warmer this time. “But I trust you. So it's whatever. I'll settle it with the company.” 

 

“Oh, no need,” Clarke says. “I'm a freelancer. I take the job only if I want to, there aren't really any working hours. It's like Uber for your genitals.”

 

Lexa is thankful she isn't drinking anything, because she's sure she would've choked on her drink. 

 

Anya snorts. 

 

“You were right,” she smirks at Lexa. “It  _ is _ genius. I'm not even going to make jokes about her enchanting you with her magic pussy.”

 

“Technically, that's not wrong,” Clarke points out, hiding her smirk behind her cup. Lexa tries to glower, but she doesn't stand a chance against bare legs and tousled blonde hair. So she simply sighs instead. 

 

Anya whistles. “I'd hire you if I were into chicks.” 

 

Lexa grinds her teeth, and, okay, so this idea might not be her best one, after all.

 

//

 

It surprises Lexa when Clarke quickly agrees she needs to buy a dress for tonight's dinner. She expected a fight to break out. Instead, Clarke nods and takes her credit card. 

 

“What?” she asks when Lexa stares at her. “You thought I'd put up a fight?” at Lexa's nod, she smiles. “This is part of the job. I have a decent wardrobe, but it's garbage compared to yours.” Lexa tries to object, for some unfathomable reason, but Clarke doesn't let her. “My pride can take it. What's left of it, anyway.” 

 

A crack in Clarke's facade is less surprising than the speed with which she covers it up. Lexa blinks, and the usual coy smirk is back. 

 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay.” she mulls Clarke's words over, quickly. Then, “But I'm taking you there.” 

 

Clarke's smile is easy. “Thought you weren't going to be available  _ at all, _ ” she teases. 

 

“Like you said,” Lexa shrugs. “Part of the job.” 

 

//

 

The cocktail party Lexa is invited to the next day goes spectacularly. Clarke's a huge success, and together with Lexa, they charm everyone they need to charm. Lexa seemingly having trouble keeping her eyes off Clarke only adds to that, and by the end of the evening, everyone's in love with them, including Nia's son Roan. He came out recently and has been chatting Lexa's ear off about the upcoming New York Pride he wants to visit. 

 

Everything is going according to plan, and Lexa tries to ignore heavy desire in the pit of her stomach every time she glances at Clarke. She could pass it off as a reaction to Clarke's new looks. Her new midnight blue dress makes her eyes stand out, and her blonde hair is done up, revealing her smooth neck and shoulders. People are drooling over Clarke left and right, and it certainly adds to Lexa's social status. It's only normal that she's attracted to her when she looks like that. 

 

Except she was just as attracted to her when she had simple jeans and a white blazer on, and even more so when she had nothing but Lexa's shirt on, but she doesn't have time to dwell on it right now. 

 

She never has time and, perhaps, that's her main problem. 

 

“She's a beauty.” A gruff voice interrupts her inner monologue, and she turns to face the intruder. Quint. Her lawyer. He's watching her watch Clarke, and his expression doesn't look good for either of them. “She also showed up out of fucking nowhere.” He narrows his eyes at Lexa. “I thought you were smarter than this.” 

 

Lexa knows fully well what he's implying, but she still asks, if only to stall. “What do you mean?” She takes a sip of her scotch, welcoming the burn it brings down her throat. Across the room, Clarke is smiling at whatever it is Roan is telling her. 

 

“You know what I mean,” Quint hisses. “Look at her. She's all over Roan. If that's not conspiring, I don't know what is.” 

 

Lexa actually laughs at that. Only when Quint recoils, surprised, she realizes she did that out loud. “She's not a spy if that's what you mean,” she says. 

 

“How can you be sure?” 

 

Lexa sighs. She's not sure she should tell Quint who Clarke actually is. But who else she can trust if not her damn lawyer? 

 

By the end of her tale – as dry and formal as possible – Quint's face is twisted into an unpleasant smirk. 

 

“Oh,” he says, and something inside Lexa coils. “Oh. Okay.” his smirk grows. “As long as she's not a spy.” 

 

“She's not.” When Quint glances at Clarke one last time before excusing himself, the coiling in her stomach tightens, cold and dreading. She's suddenly not so sure she should've told Quint the truth. 

 

// 

 

When Clarke remains silent the entire ride back to the hotel, Lexa's hunch is solidified. 

 

“Thank you for tonight,” she tries. Clarke simply continues to stare out the window. They are in the backseat of a cab, and Lexa reasons that perhaps Clarke doesn't want to discuss their deal when a third party is present. 

 

At least she hopes so. 

 

She's wrong. 

 

It becomes apparent when they pull up in front of the hotel and Clarke climbs out first, not sparing her a glance and heading straight to the entrance. 

 

The driver chuckles when Lexa hands him cash. "Flowers," he says. "Get her some flowers. And candy." Then he glances at the hotel they are staying in. "And diamonds." 

 

"You can't buy a woman," Lexa says and winces as soon as the words leave her mouth. The driver snorts. 

 

"You can buy her forgiveness, though." 

 

Lexa doesn't take the change. When she finally gets out of the car, Clarke is nowhere to be seen. She's half worried the woman took off, never to be seen again, but Clarke is waiting for her in the lobby, not meeting her eyes and shivering from the cold. 

 

She doesn't accept Lexa's jacket. The elevator ride is just as painfully silent, and in the end, Lexa can't take it anymore. 

 

"Have I done something to upset you?" She's frantically trying to remember everything she's said to the blonde at the party, but she comes up short. She's been - at least she thinks she's been nothing but respectful. Clarke seemed to genuinely enjoy the party, mingling with guests and laughing at jokes. She was fine. Up until Lexa got distracted by an associate and lost her, and when she found her, she was stone cold and silent, staring at lovely centerpieces set on tables. 

 

Something must have happened between then and now, but what? 

 

Clarke seems to mull over her question, nose scrunched up pretty. Lexa has to stomp on her inappropriate urge to lean in and brush her lips over the wrinkles. It takes more effort than anticipated. "No," she finally hears. It's quiet. Too quiet. So unlike Clarke she's come to know so quickly. "You didn't. I mean," the laugh she gives is hollow. "I get it. He's your lawyer. You had to tell him." 

 

The realization washes over Lexa, and she feels ice cold and scalding hot at once. Quint. 

 

She should have never told him anything. 

 

Clarke brushes past her into the room when she opens the door, and she follows, hurried. "Clarke." She doesn't care about confusing urgency in her voice. Clarke stops. She takes her time turning around, and when she does, Lexa swallows at the look on her face. She hates the distance Clarke puts between them. "What did he say?" 

 

Clarke's smile scares Lexa with its emptiness. "What makes you think he said anything?" 

 

She doesn't like to play games. Well, she does, actually, but not with this woman. God, she barely knows her, and yet... "I think it's a little obvious." 

 

"What he said to me is also a little obvious, don't you think?" 

 

Lexa prides herself on being able to stay level headed in any situation. Her rage is controlled and she uses it as her strength, not a weakness. But right now, it's not. Right now, breathing becomes difficult and hands curl into fists on their own and all she sees is red. 

 

Clarke takes her stunned silence as confusion. "He offered to  _ fuck _ me, Lexa," she says slowly, as if talking to a child. "Because that's what I am. A hooker. He was very clear about that. Because  _ you _ were clear about that." Hurt. That's what hiding behind Clarke's empty mask. She's hurt her. Inadvertently, yes, never meaning to - but she still did. 

 

"I'm sorry," she says. Because what else is there to say? 

 

Clarke shakes her head. She looks angry, suddenly, her features twisted in a frown, and Lexa really shouldn't be thinking that, but she looks so, so lovely. "No," she says. "Don't be. I'm the one who's sorry. You don't owe me anything." Blue eyes find hers, and Lexa feels like she's suffocating. "You had every right to tell your lawyer something this significant. What he decided to do next is on him, and my reaction is on me. None of this is on you." 

 

Lexa feels even worse. How must Clarke feel, then? 

 

"Perhaps, it's not," she replies slowly. "But none of this..." She takes a small, tentative step towards Clarke. When the woman doesn't step away, she tries not to smile. "You deserve more than this." 

 

Clarke's mouth is a wry line. "Still cheesy as fuck." She sighs. Rubs her hands up and down her bare arms. "I mean it, Lexa. Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong. I'm the one-" she stops abruptly, shaking her head. "You'd think in this day and age, girls don't dream about Prince Charming anymore," she says instead. 

 

"I'm a little scared of white horses," Lexa offers with a small smile. That earns her a quiet laugh. It's faint, but it's sincere, and suddenly it's a little easier to breathe. 

 

"But black horses are fine?" 

 

"I'm scared of horses, period," she admits. "I was just continuing with your analogy." 

 

"Anything else you're scared of?" The banter, as careful and heavy with undertones as it is, seems to be working, Clarke relaxes her hold on herself, and her face isn't an expressionless mask anymore. A small smile plays on her lips, and, even though it's tinged with sadness, Lexa will take it over scary, empty smirk any day. 

 

"Heights," she confesses. "Heights and horses." 

 

"Is that all?" Clarke's staring at her with tense anticipation, and Lexa gets it. 

 

"Yes," she says. "That's all." 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

A lot of things happen after that night. 

For one, Anya fires Quint. Lexa’s pretty sure she does it so that Lexa herself doesn’t have a chance to strangle the man. She has to admit the thought crossed her mind a couple of times. 

Clarke wordlessly accepts her apology, and Lexa accepts the invitation to the next party. And the next. And the next. Of course, Clarke joins. 

(Of course, Lexa can’t tear her eyes away from her every single time.) 

They still have sex on a regular basis. Turns out Lexa wasn’t truthful about not being available most nights, because most nights, she falls into Clarke’s embrace until they are nothing but a tangled mess of limbs and cries. Clarke’s the most exquisite of addictions. But Lexa’s still focused, as much as she can be with a beautiful blonde distraction waiting in her bed. She knows what her first priority is. She knows that. 

(Her confidence in its importance is wavering more and more every day, but she knows what it is. What’s at stake and who’s at stake and how much she owes it to herself and Anya.) 

And Costia. 

She’s been on her mind a lot ever since she found out Nia’s died and her son inherited Azgeda. She’s been on her mind less since she met Clarke. She’s not sure if she should feel guilty; if she does feel guilty. 

“What’s between you and Roan?” Clarke asks one night after they are done making each other scream, her voice still hoarse. “I don’t mean it like that,” she explains teasingly when Lexa raises one eyebrow at her. “I mean, it’s not just about acquisition for you. It’s something personal. You’re - you’re angry with Azgeda.” 

Lexa’s been slowly learning not to be taken aback with Clarke’s perceptiveness. “I am,” she breathes out, staring at the ceiling. “But it’s not Roan. It’s his mother.” She’s not sure why she’s telling Clarke about this. Maybe because it’s easier with strangers. 

She’s not sure, though, that Clarke’s a stranger anymore. Maybe, that’s part of the reason she does want to tell her. “Nia Azgeda - she took something from me.” She swallows thickly. “Something important. Someone.” 

Clarke’s light touch on her arm makes her turn her head to face her and her pretty confused frown. But the woman doesn’t say anything except look at her, prompting her to continue. So she does. 

“Her name was Costia. It was several years ago. Anya and I started our first company. An actual legitimate business, not what we’re doing now.” She smiles, but there’s no warmth. “It was a construction company. We were growing fast, and we were becoming famous for our quality and prices and values. See, the thing is, we didn’t want to make millions. We wanted to be affordable and we wanted people to be able to build their homes and not be neck-deep in debt. Our business model was simple yet effective. And I - I just wanted to build beautiful things. Leave something behind.” Clarke’s blue eyes are smiling and soft, so she looks away, telling her story to the ceiling instead. “We were growing fast. Soon, it was time to expand. We opened up a branch here. In Nia’s territory. And Nia - she was not the type of person to like that.” 

“What did she do?” Clarke asks in a small whisper when Lexa is silent for a moment. Her hand on Lexa’s arm is warm and it itches, suddenly, but Lexa makes no move to pull away. 

“She outed me.” Clarke lets out a loud breath, but Lexa doesn’t turn to look at her. She’s still staring at the ceiling. “Fascinating how much can change in a couple of years, you know? Now, it wouldn’t have mattered much. At least, not in this part of the country. Back then, a lot of clients left us when it happened. She leaked photos of Costia and I to several far-right business publications. Costia was my girlfriend. About to be my… I, uh, I wanted to propose. I’ve had plans to propose since forever, but her family was - they are extremely homophobic.” 

“No,” Clarke breathes next to her, and Lexa thinks that perhaps she knows where this is going. But she keeps going anyway. 

“We didn’t exactly go bankrupt, but we declined. Drastically. And Costia couldn’t handle it.” 

“Did she-” 

“I was the one who found her. Sleeping pills.” 

“God,” Clarke chokes out, and tears are streaming down her face silently when Lexa finally looks at her again. “I’m sorry. Lexa, I’m so sorry.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Lexa says. She screws her eyes shut, sighing. 

Next to her, Clarke inches closer until her head is on her shoulder and her arm is around her middle, gentle, shielding. Lexa swallows and tastes salt from barely shed tears. 

That night, they fall asleep entwined, and if Clarke hears Lexa’s shaky breaths, she doesn’t mention it the next morning. 

// 

Lexa's invited to several more parties, and she attends all of them with Clarke on her arm. Next couple of days are a complete blur, really, but it’s worth it. Roan is so charmed by Lexa he agrees to meet with her. Invites her to have brunch at a restaurant his mother’s company has built.

Of course, she takes Clarke. Roan takes his fiance. It’s a quaint little cafe with a beautiful terrace, and they drink mimosas while looking over the lake. 

“...and the living room almost got caught on fire!” Halim laughs, recalling Roan’s unlucky proposal. Clarke laughs with him, the sound unreserved and full, and Lexa finds herself transfixed by it. She barely hears Roan say something, drifting in and out of conversation as her gaze inevitably falls on the woman next to her. 

“I was trying to be romantic,” Roan defends himself through chuckles. “And I still stand by what I said. There’s no such thing-”

“-as too many candles,” the men finish together before laughing. Clarke joins in, and Lexa chuckles with them. It’s nice. That’s what makes it so uncomfortable. 

“Well, if anything good came out of it,” Roan continues after taking a sip of his drink,  “I achieved my goals that night.” 

Clarke whistles and waggles her eyebrows at that, and Lexa finds herself blushing along with Halim, whose darker skin turns a lovely shade of pink. Roan rolls his eyes at Clarke’s antics, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. 

“Not those goals, Clarke, also you would be correct.” 

“Why plural?” Lexa asks suddenly, surprising herself. All three heads turn to her with friendly curiosity. “Isn’t there only one goal? For him to say yes?” 

Roan chuckles. “For some, I guess. But for me,” he takes Halim’s hand in his own, smiling at the man, “for us - I wanted it to be one of the most memorable nights of his life. Clearly, fire helped.” 

“Well, it was rather small,” Halim says, defending Roan now with a shy smile. 

But for some reason, Lexa just can’t let this go. She’s agitated, suddenly. Despite them being outside, the air becomes stifling, not enough. “You’re putting quite an emphasis on this. Most people want their engagement night to be memorable.” 

“Lexa,” Clarke tries, but Roan’s smile grows wider. Still, it’s tinged with sadness. “It’s okay. Things are different for everyone. I assume your families are supportive of you two?” Without letting Lexa answer, he continues. “Halim’s family is not. My mother would’ve had a fit too if she were still alive.” The man’s smirk turns wry, and Lexa fights the urge to sneer in his face. Because she knows. God, she knows. And he doesn’t. 

“I come from a country where it’s illegal to be gay,” Halim adds sadly, and Lexa doesn’t need to look at Clarke to know her eyes are full of sympathy. “Some of my people… My family, even - they twist my religion to shame us and our community. When I came out to them, they didn’t take it well. I haven’t spoken to them since.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke says, and Lexa bites her lip. She keeps doing that. Apologizing for things that aren’t her fault. 

“I’ve made my peace with that,” Halim replies with an easy smile, and Lexa watches him squeeze Roan’s hand. “This one is still worried. Hence all the grand gestures. But I’m okay. Allah created us to different nations and tribes. In his creation, there is a diversity - and we celebrate that.” 

“It’s amazing,” Clarke says, smiling, “that you find solace in it. For many people, for some of my friends, reconciling their religion and their identity is a difficult task.” 

Halim nods. “Yes, it is quite difficult. People choose to use God, or Allah, as a shield for their hate. But in the end, that’s what it is. hate. And God is not hate, no matter what religion you follow. I think it’s important to always remember that.” 

Lexa doesn’t notice her hand is shaking until Clarke’ covers it with her own, lightly squeezing. She’s smiling when Lexa turns to look at her, and to two men, it must look like a moment of adoration, but blue eyes hold worry and… apprehension. Clarke’s anxious about her reaction, and it only now occurs to Lexa what her silence and stoicism might look like. 

But that’s not it. 

Costia couldn’t live her life because of Roan’s mother. Because of her family. And now, this brave, kind man whose family can’t accept him finds peace and love with Roan. Whose mother ended Costia’s life. 

Irony is an awful, terrible thing. 

(Are kids accountable for their parents’ mistakes?)

Lexa feels like she might be sick, but she powers through. “I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet,” she says. “I went through a similar experience. I guess - I guess I took a trip down memory lane. You’re a brave man, Halim,” she addressed Roan’s fiance, hoping her words sound as genuine as she feels. 

Roan goes pale. “Oh Lexa - I’m sorry for assuming earlier,” he hurries to say. “Did it happen - wait. Did you propose?!” He looks between the two of them, looking like an excited kid, and Lexa shakes her head. Clarke does the same, looking as mortified. 

“Oh, I - no, no I did not,” Lexa rushes to clarify. “I meant the whole acceptance thing. I’m not - we’re not-” 

“Yeah,” Clarke chimes in, lamely finishing her fumbled thought. There’s a lull in conversation where two men share a knowing glance and give them a sly look while Clarke and Lexa busy themselves with drinking their mimosas. 

Finally, Roan can’t contain himself any longer: “So when’s the wedding?” 

“Roan!” Halim looks at him pointedly, and Lexa’s never been more grateful in her entire life, or so it feels. “You know, Lexa,” he shifts his gaze to her. “We were discussing something on our way here - we think your arrival here is nothing short of a miracle.” 

“Ah, yes!” Roan nods enthusiastically. “There was something I wanted to discuss with you. I hope you don’t mind me getting right to it - you seem like a person who appreciates direct approach.” 

“Of course,” Lexa says, wondering what part of an hour-long chit-chat was ‘getting right to it’. 

“Well, here goes,” Roan puts his fork down after he takes a bite of his omelet and carefully chews. “I want to accept your offer.” 

Lexa blinks. “I’m sorry?” She thought he would need at least another week. Maybe a month. This exceeds her expectations. 

She glances at Clarke who’s taking another sip, her expression neutral. 

“Yes! I want to seal the deal with you.” Roan sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “I’m a smart guy. And because I’m smart, I can recognize that Azgeda is about to go bankrupt. My mother’s leadership… left a lot of things to be desired. She was feared, yes. But that’s it. It’s not sustainable. With her death, it’s falling apart. And - well, I’m smart, but I’m not a businessman. Not like you are. So, yes. We accept your offer. I wanted to tell you in person, in an informal setting - of course, we’ll follow all the necessary procedures later. But for now - this is a celebration.” He raises his glass, toasting to her. “Between friends.” 

He wants her to buy the majority of his company’s shares. The same thing she’s after, as well. Only their visions of future are drastically different. 

He expects Lexa to take the company to new heights. She expects to sell its assets at an attractive price and leave a little richer than she came here. 

He has no idea she's about to ruin his mother's legacy. 

Technically, it's a success. 

Clarke’s expression is unreadable when Lexa raises her glass and drinks. 

//

She takes Clarke out to celebrate, and Clarke kisses her.

Everything she's worked so hard for crumbles into pieces, and the scariest thing is, she doesn’t want to pick them up.

Clarke kisses her. 

 _No kissing on the mouth_. 

Clarke kisses her. 

They get back to the hotel after a night full of talks and laughter and wine, and Clarke kisses her when she falls asleep, awkwardly propped up against the headboard, waiting for Clarke to finish her night routine. She wakes up to Clarke's lips pressed against her own, mint and cherry. 

Clarke kisses her. She kisses back. Kisses and kisses and kisses until there are no clothes between them and Clarke is warm and pliant, sighing into her mouth. She kisses her until she falls apart in her lap, rocking on her fingers and gasping her name against her lips. She kisses her long after that, greedy and soft and savoring every sound until Clarke is the only taste she remembers. 

“You asked me what was so special about you,” Clarke says, when they lie in bed, worn out, trading kisses and caresses. “When we first met.” 

Lexa presses a small kiss to the hollow of her neck. “I remember. You said I wasn't ready to know.”  Next kiss is on Clarke's lips, sweet and smiling. She can't get enough of them, but Clarke wants to continue talking, so she is pushed away, light and teasing.

“Well, you made me come, for one,” Clarke laughs, and she joins in. The sound is full and happy and she revels in it. Clarke's thumb is tender on her cheek. “But... I don't know. You were... hungry. Touch-starved, almost. Yet you never made it about yourself.” Blue eyes soften, and Lexa's do, too, and she leans in for a lingering kiss before the blonde continues. “You made me... feel. Somehow." 

Lexa feels her heart pound in her chest. Now or never. "What did I make you feel?" Logically, she knows Clarke won't say it. It's barely been a week. It's not possible. She doesn't know if she's anticipating or dreading her answer, and what answer that might be. 

Clarke shrugs. "A possibility," she simply replies. "Hope. For more. This is crazy," she laughs. "We've known each other for like, a week." 

"I've never done anything crazy in my entire life," Lexa says. "Until you."

For now, it's enough. 

//

Roan's smile is warm and open when they meet to negotiate the sale, and Lexa imagines the look on his face when she sells all of company assets off and flees back to New York with Anya. She remembers the way Clarke's face crumbled when she talked about Quint. 

It tasted like betrayal, and that's exactly what it was, and Lexa's not sure she wants that anymore. Her rivalry with Nia isn't worth it. It's not worth hundreds of jobs and people's lives and hopes and dreams. 

And now she’s sure, more than ever, that Costia would never want this. She would never want Lexa to do this, all of this. Not just with Azgeda.

“I’m not going to buy the shares,” she says. Anya pauses mid-chew, and Roan almost chokes on his drink. “That’s not how we are going to do this. I don’t want an ownership,” she continues, a slow smile forming on her face. “I want a partnership.”

Anya resumes chewing with a shrug. Roan’s still frozen, gaping at her. His mouth opens and closes a few times until he finally manages to speak. “Lexa,” he says. “Are you sure? The condition of Azgeda-” 

“-is exactly what we need,” Lexa interrupts him. Anya’s lazy smile is smug and kind at the same time. 

"Magic pussy," she mouths at her when Roan can’t see while he shakes Lexa's hand with his own trembling one. 

"Shut up," Lexa discreetly mouths back before smiling at Roan. "My lawyer will draw up a contract in a week," she tells him. "I've been thinking about it for some time, and I think partnering with us instead of me buying share will be much better for your company in the long run. Together, we will create something beautiful. And please come to New York with Halim some time. I’ll be happy to show you around,” she adds before they leave. _Build things instead of tearing them down_ , she thinks. Wasn't that her dream a long time ago - so long ago she's forgotten about it? 

Until Clarke. 

Clarke, who left her room this morning, before Lexa left for her final meeting with Roan. She stood in the hallway with a small smile and a suitcase. 

"Time's up," she said. 

Lexa panicked. When she panics, she makes wrong choices. "You could come to New York," she blurted out. Clarke's eyes flashed with shock, and she backtracked. "I mean. I could set you up with an apartment. We could still see each other." 

Clarke shut down so fast Lexa recoiled. "Right." Her smirk was wry. "I forgot you were scared of horses." She shouldered her bag and took the suitcase. "And you forgot I was at your beck and call only for a week. You didn't pay for more." 

Lexa was smart enough not to offer extending her payment, and Clarke left. Just like that.

And now she's leaving, too. Her business here is done. She has to get back to New York and announce their partnership with Azgeda and face the inevitable shitstorm coming her way. 

But that's not what she _wants_ to do. And Anya seems to think the same. 

"You're an idiot," she flatly tells Lexa just as she is about to tell the driver to stop the car that’s driving them to the airport.

"I know." She tells the driver to pull over, and Anya's gaze is warm. Lexa's gaze is determined. 

"Do you know where I can rent a white horse in this city?" 


End file.
